


You're Unlike Anyone I've Known

by FandomLovingFreak



Category: Pedro Pascal - Fandom, Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But Mentions - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, I am lazy, I hope you enjoy anyways:), I just wanted to write something for Maxwell Lord and here we are, Language is why I rated it Teen+, Maxwell Lord is a pompous ass, More headcanon-y style writing, No Smut, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Pining, Reader is an artist, Wonder Woman 1984, but no mention of any other characters from the movie, dc, reader is a barista
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLovingFreak/pseuds/FandomLovingFreak
Summary: Maxwell Lord needs to get his own coffee one morning because his assistant is sick. He takes a liking to the barista at Indulge, one of the many “hippie cafes” in town. She’s unlike anyone he’s ever known. (No use of y/n)
Relationships: Maxwell Lord/Reader, Maxwell Lord/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. I guess I’m trying to make Maxwell lord not a complete prick but this “fic” will be sorta angsty in other parts. In this chapter he basically is just trying to get reader to fuck him, but ALSO Well—- you’ll see ;) OH and I’m trying to make this reader very self-insert aka without descriptions that are physical. I hope you can find yourself in the reader. I’m always willing to fix something if I accidentally put something in my fic that would suggest what the reader looks like (an example I know I was careful not to include was blushing because I’ve seen people post about how that negates them being the reader.) I’m trying! And hopefully succeeding! ENJOY!

\- His “incompetent, bird-brained” (in his words) assistant had called in sick this morning. She begged him to keep her job.

\- “I have the flu, Mr. Lord. I—I’m begging you. I need this job. I’ll— do anything, sir. I’m so sorry.” The woman sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

\- He wanted to fire her on the spot, but then he remembered how delectable her lips felt wrapped around his hard cock and just could not let that go. Maybe next month he could fire his awful assistant.

\- “Fine. But if you ever call me on my cell phone again you’ll be lucky to get a job anywhere. Do you understand?” She had stuttered out a yes. He ended the call immediately after.

\- “Elliot. New plan. Drive me to Indulge.”

\- There had been no parking available which pissed him off even more than he was.

\- “I’m sorry sir—“

\- “It’s fine.” He snapped, opening the door to the black SUV with annoyance. He stepped out onto the pavement in front of one of the many hipster coffee shops in the city.

\- The line was decent, only two people in front of him as he impatiently tapped his foot. The woman in front of him looked back to glare at his impatience, but the angry scrunch of his eyebrows scared her from saying anything.

\- _Finally,_ he gets to the front of the line. Without letting the barista speak, or even looking at the person in front of him, he starts ordering.

\- “One large black coffee, one pump of the cinnamon syrup, and a slice of the coffee cake.”

\- “That’ll be $8.53,” the barista says, “name?”

\- He finally looks down at the barista, intending to say ‘Mr. Lord’. He’s stunned to see a very beautiful woman taking his order. “Maxwell.”

\- “Alright, Maxwell.” She scribbles his name on the large paper cup. “I’ll get your coffee cake.” She smiles before disappearing behind the glass case. Handing him the little paper bag, she tells him his coffee will be ready in a few minutes and he can stand over by the tall counter.

\- He almost tells her he’ll stay right here, but the softness of her eyes and the warm smile directed at him of all people persuades him to obey the request.

\- When she hands him the large coffee, with his name scribbled in black sharpie he nods to her.

\- He ends up getting coffee for himself over the next few weeks.

\- He finds out her name one of the mornings. He likes the way it drips off his tongue. He wants her.

\- When he asks her to work for him, she refuses him.

\- “That’s a very nice offer Mr. Lord…” she had laughed lightheartedly, “but I’m not really one of those office job types.”

\- “What do you mean?” He had tilted his head quizzically.

\- “I don’t think I would enjoy working in an office,” she shrugged her shoulders, “besides, I love working here. It gives me plenty of time to paint.”

\- “But it’s so low paying.”

\- “I don’t mind. It pays my bills.”

\- How the hell does this woman not see the value of money? She would be paid four times the amount of money she makes in this dump if she was his assistant. Plus she would get him. What the hell does this place hold to _that_?

\- He leaves her a $100 tip after their little conversation.

\- He continues to pester her every morning to work for him. She always laughs him off always politely rejecting him.

\- Finally, he’s fed up with asking her to work for him, to see what having money feels like and asks her to dinner. Maybe then she’ll want to be his assistant.

\- She misinterprets his invitation and tells him she knows a great place.

\- “Wear something casual. You’ll stick out in all that jewelry and that suit.”

\- He’s dumbstruck that this woman has taken control of the situation, and is telling him that she’s essentially _taking him out_ … but he’s intrigued by her and can’t help but agree to what she’s proposing.

\- He meets her at her small apartment at 6:30 pm on Friday.

\- Her apartment is very small. But the bright colors of her art that’s hung up in nearly every available space and the bright greens of an exuberant amount of plants she has growing into her living room from her balcony is just so _different_. Compared to his large house, it’s walls beige and blank, her apartment feels alive.

\- He’s “dressed down” which is still pretty fancy she remarks. But at least he doesn’t have all the jewelry and glitz he usually covers himself in.

\- She ruffles his hair playfully, something he would usually get angry about but he lets it slide. The feeling of her fingers in his hair, and the wide grin on her face as she beams up at him is worth ruining the usually precise shape of his hair.

\- “There now you don’t look so stiff.”

\- He tells her he has his driver out in front, but she insists they just walk.

\- “It’s not far. Let’s walk!”

\- Somehow she has him walking to wherever she’s taking him. Him. Maxwell Lord, walking down the street.

\- He finds he doesn’t mind as she talks about her day and the significance of another mural on this or that side of the building.

\- He’s mesmerized by the bright, cheery personality she has. He’s never seen someone like him who seemed as alive as she does.

\- How could someone be so happy… but so poor? He’s flabbergasted.

\- She takes him to a local burger joint she swears she loves.

\- He hesitated sitting down on the greasy bar stool. His pants are expensive! But he finds himself sitting next to her as she talks with the man behind the bar. They seem to know each other well which irritates the hell out of him.

\- She orders for him. Again something that shocks him. Two of a burger that seemed to be named after her and two beers.

\- “I basically live here,” she seems embarrassed as she looks down at the wooden bar top, “So Carl made me my own special. I hope you don’t mind.”

\- Somehow he finds he doesn’t care.

\- Carl sets down the drinks in front of them, winking at her. She thanks him.

\- He doesn’t think he really likes _Carl_ all that much.

\- When their burgers do come out, he’s pleasantly surprised that they look edible. Good even.

\- He just did not expect anything remotely edible to be made in this place. (The man’s an annoying snob so—)

\- He’s about to ask for a knife to cut the burger until he sees you take a large bite.

\- _Oh._

\- You seem to really enjoy your meal, he thinks. You’re not like the other women he’s had meals with. You don’t eat like a damn bird, afraid of what he may think if they actually ate. Between mouthfuls, you talk to him.

\- “See this was originally the number five here, but I always asked for no tomatoes and extra pickles, so Carl just scrapped the number five and put my burger in its place.”

\- Again… talking about that damn _Carl_. He doesn’t understand why he’s so … _jealous_ of that man. You’re so familiar with him.

\- “It’s good.” He tries to keep his voice level.

\- When you’re done with your food, he is again surprised when you ask for the check and put down your card.

\- “No, I can pay.” He feels silly letting a woman pay for his meal—

\- “I got it!” You practically shove the bill and your card at Carl before he can pay. “You tip me too generously Max. I insist on paying.”

\- He’s just generally shocked by your behavior. You’re not like the women he’s used to. I mean you got him to go to a burger joint. Him! And you don’t want him to pay for your meal? He’s Maxwell Lord for Christ's Sake. Women _dream_ of his money.

\- She says she has one more thing planned. He blindly follows her until they reach a little park.

\- She takes his hand in hers.

\- Thank god it’s semi-dark out already. He feels like his whole body has been engulfed in flames the way he’s blushing. Him _blushing_ … it’s—it’s _okay_ he supposes.

\- She leads him to a bench where they sit down.

\- “This is my favorite spot in the whole world,” she speaks quietly.

\- He looks out at the view of the city. It’s not so bad he thinks.

\- To say he’s shocked would be an understatement when she leans her head against his shoulder.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell can't decide what he wants from you. He finds himself captivated by your simple lifestyle... yet he wants to show you his world. He finds himself wondering if money can really buy anything he wants.

  * The next morning I end up in the coffee shop again, ordering my regular.
  * She smiles up at me from behind the counter. Her hair is a little messy, her eyes bright despite the early hour.
  * “I like you better when you’re not so fancy.”
  * I feel like I should be offended by that, but how could I be with her? 
  * Sitting down at the counter I try to create small talk with her despite her taking orders steadily. She laughs at something I say, apologizing twice for taking me to a burger joint. 
  * I surprise myself by saying I had fun. I don't have fun. I didn't even mean to go on a date _date_ with this girl. My stomach turns uncomfortably thinking about how I had originally intended to coax her back to my home after wooing her with my exuberant spending. Fuck. What am I doing? I don't date. I still want to fuck her...I still do?
  * The words leave my lips before I've processed the meaning. “Next time we’re going where I want.” 
  * She does a doubletake as she's writing some long-haired man's name on the paper cup. She quickly scribbles the rest of his name, Sebastian, on the cup telling him his coffee will be ready at the counter. Walking towards my spot at the counter, she rolls her eyes playfully, “Everywhere you probably go is too fancy for me. I’m too plain.”
  * When the words leave her lips I;m immediately annoyed with it. Plain? How could she see herself as plain? She’s leagues above the bimbos who frequent the restaurants he does.
  * An hour before I plan on leaving the office, I have my assistant go out and buy an elegant dress and heels. 
  * “Have them sent to this address.”
  * The dinner reservation I call for myself. A fancy French restaurant with an impossible waitlist. Luckily for me, the owner is one of my contacts from work. Bill has them work me into tonight's reservations, insisting on giving me a private table. 
  * “Get a dozen red roses… wait, scratch that. She wouldn’t like that. Find something elegant and... purple. Ask the florist for the most expensive purple bouquet.”
  * _Seven o’clock sharp. ~ M.L._ he has his assistant write on the little note with the bouquet. 
  * Picking out my suit was harder than I anticipated. I want to look good. I swear it's only because I want to fuck her… but—do I? Is that why I'm looking through my suits in my walk-in closet like a mad man?
  * I curse as I look through the same hundred suits again. Nothing feels _good enough._
  * Despising that I'm worried about what she'll think makes my indecisiveness worse. I'm caught between two suits and my lack of usual Lord confidence. It fucking pisses me off how I've somehow been reduced to a wreck over choosing a stupid suit to wear to dinner. Dinner with someone I just want to fuck...
  * I glance down at my Breguet watch. Shit, where did the time go? I've got less than forty-five minutes before I have to be at hers. 
  * “Shit…” Grabbing the nearest suit, the blue one, I lay it out on my bed before taking a quick shower.
  * My hair is slightly messier than usual. Not because of anything she said this morning, definitely not. I just--didn't have time to style it how I would usually. Glancing at myself in my mirror one last time, I go through my mental checklist. I remembered to spritz on my expensive cologne. The rich and seductive scent not too overpowering, and my suit looks pristine.
  * I ache to see her in the dress my assistant bought. 
  * My driver pulls up to her dinky apartment building, and I scurry up to her door.
  * Knocking, I glance at my watch. 7:15... How the hell? I'm never late.
  * When she opens the door I swear my breath is stolen. 
  * “Hi,” she says timidly. “This is… a very expensive dress. I can’t keep this Max…”
  * I absentmindedly lick my bottom lip, “Nonsense. You’ll keep it. I gave it to you.”
  * She purses her lips at me but doesn't pursue the argument I know is sitting on the tip of her tongue. 
  * During the car ride, we're both relatively quiet. I'm so confused by her and her annoyance at the expensive gifts. I don't want to admit it, but her reactions unnerve me. How does she not want my gifts? They are extremely expensive designer items! Every woman—I stop myself at that thought. _She is not every woman_.
  * “Did you at least like the flowers?”
  * “They’re pretty,” she admits shrugging. He loves the way the dress shows off her beautiful body. She’s lovely. 
  * He helps her out of the SUV, holding her hand in his. He doesn’t let go as they walk into the restaurant together. It feels _nice_.
  * “Mr. Lord,” the hostess nods, “your table is ready.” She leads us to my personal table.
  * Playing the gentleman, I pull her chair out for her to sit. When she’s comfortably situated, I walk around the table to sit in my own chair. The wine selection is _okay_. 
  * “White or red?”
  * “What?” She looks at me confused.
  * “Wine. Do you prefer white or red?”
  * She frowns, “I guess white?”
  * “The most expensive white you have.”
  * The waiter nods, “very good sir.”
  * “You didn’t… have to do that Max.” I look at her confused.
  * “I want to show you luxury.”
  * She sighs, looking down at her lap as she squirms ever so slightly in her chair. I can’t read her at all, but I can clearly see how uncomfortable she is right now.
  * The waiter brings the bottle in an ice bucket and two crystal glasses. He pours us our glasses before asking if the lady would like anything else.
  * “A glass of water would be nice.” He nods before disappearing into the main restaurant again.
  * She picks up the menu hiding behind the large pages as she picks out her entree.
  * “Get anything you want.”
  * She looks over the menu at me, “I don't want to get something expensive—“
  * “You can get whatever you want.”
  * She frowns, setting down the menu.
  * The waiter comes back with her glass of water and asks if we need more time with the menu. I look at her to see if she needs more time. She smiles up at the waiter.
  * “I’ll get a cup of the tourin and a garden salad.”
  * I look down at my menu. Of course, she chose one of the least expensive dishes on the menu. I bite my tongue. She is—
  * “And for you sir?” Both of them look at me. The waiter is eager to get my order and this maddening girl. Her eyes shine with a rebellious light.
  * I clear my throat, “I will have what the lady is having.”
  * “I’m surprised Maxwell Lord is willing to order such a lackluster meal.”
  * “It sounds...refreshing.”
  * “Unlike the… filet mignon,” she flips the menu over, “or the lobster tail?”
  * “Soup and salad are fine,” I roll my eyes.
  * She giggles. It’s fucking music to my ears. 
  * Finding myself asking about her day is...odd. I’ve never cared about anyone’s day. Especially not a conquest.
  * She tells me about her annoying customers, telling me a story about a woman who wanted some difficult order. 
  * “—the woman was...maddening. She asked for all these extra whistles and bells but got mad at me for charging her more money. People don’t understand how expensive custom coffees can get.”
  * “How did you get this job? I mean—is this what you want to do?” I ask curiously. I’m embarrassed by how—rude sounding my question is, but she doesn’t seem phased.
  * “No, it’s not. But like I’ve said before Max, it pays my bills!” She grins, “If I could have any job in the world I would want to be a known artist. I’ve sold a few of my paintings, but with my limited amount of time and money, it’s hard to book space for a pop-up gallery. I know if I could do that I could start making my dream job come true.”
  * “I could—“
  * She grabs my hand, squeezing it slightly, “please don’t offer me something. I’m okay with my life.”
  * I smile back. I don’t get this woman. She struggles with her awful hours at work, her bills, her dreams being held up because of her financial problems...yet she’s content. She seems happy living the way she wants to.
  * In fact, she clearly feels out of place in this restaurant. Maybe even considers the way I live to be crazy. As if money is something that seems to make her uncomfortable.
  * “I could easily spot you the extra cash needed.”
  * She smiles, but her eyes don’t light up, “that’s sweet but no. I don’t want your money, Max.”
  * What the hell does she want then?
  * Our salad comes out first. 
  * She doesn’t seem disappointed. I do. The salads are big but it’s—salad.
  * “Oh wow! This is so fresh!” She takes another large bite. “Isn’t it good?”
  * “Yeah—it’s good.” I take a bite of the leafy monstrosity.
  * I finish half of it before the waiter comes out with our soups.
  * The soup is much better than the salad I’ll admit but it’s still not a lot.
  * The waiter comes back with the dessert menu and I can see (y/n) wants to say no… but I can’t help but want to treat her.
  * “We’ll have the chocolate cake,” I say before she can object. I know for a fact the cake here is amazing. It’s decadently moist, and the chocolate they use is of the highest quality. It’s always topped off with a hint of raspberry and fresh creme. 
  * “You didn’t have to get dessert Maxwell.”
  * I reach for her hand this time, “I want to show you my life. A life of luxury isn’t bad, (y/n). Besides, this cake is delicious. Trust me, I ordered just as much for myself too.”
  * She squeezes my hand, a small smile on her lips. This time I see that light ignited in her eyes. 
  * Butterflies flutter in my stomach.
  * Geez, what has this girl done to me?
  * I quell down the unwanted emotions, reminding myself of what I really want. Fuck.
  * When I walk her back to her apartment door, I almost want to ask her to stay out. We can find some dirty diner or something she would find charming to sit in. Just talk. I don't think this is the time to get what I want. At least I tell myself I want to wait. I want her attention focused on me for a while longer. To hear her twinkling laughter bounce off the walls. All for me. 
  * “Do you want to come in?” 
  * Maybe she feels the same way?
  * “Sure,” I try to sound nonchalant and not so... _giddy_ that she’s asking me into her apartment.
  * She pulls out a cheap red wine, “I know it’s not expensive… but just trust me. It’s _really good_.”
  * My smile is tighter than I'd like. What the hell is she trying to make me drink?
  * Pouring the two glasses, she hands him one before sitting on the couch.
  * She hums as she drinks the red liquid, seeming to enjoy herself. Cautiously I take a sip.
  * “It’s not bad,” I admit in defeat. It’s definitely not some of the wines I’ve tasted… but for something that no doubtably cost her less than twenty-dollars? Not bad.
  * She grins over the top of the wine glass, “see? You don’t have to spend a fortune to get something good.”
  * I set down the glass of wine, turning my attention to the beautiful woman sitting next to me.
  * “What’s the meaning behind that painting?” I point to a very yellow piece of art. It looks like a field with a boy running happily across.
  * “I’m not exactly sure. I saw a woman and her son playing in a park I was in once and I guess the image just stuck with me. It’s yellow because I was happy seeing the happiness in the boy's eyes as he ran around.”
  * “Do you paint with specific colors a lot that have an emotional impact on you?” I’ve noticed so many of her paintings in this room alone focus on a specific color. I’m too curious not to ask her.
  * “Sometimes,” she takes another sip of her wine, “but sometimes inspiration just hits and I find myself focusing less on color and more on the feeling of the subject. But color…” she hums in the back of her throat, “it does have an important meaning to me sometimes.”
  * “What color do I remind you of?” The words bubble out of my throat before I can stop them. I lean towards her as she sets down the wine glass.
  * She seems to be thinking as she gazes into my eyes. “Purple.”
  * “Purple? Why?” I had been expecting red because of my clear dominance in the world.
  * “Because purple can be so many things. It can be proud and noble, but also soft and comforting. You remind me of purple.”
  * “Oh—“
  * “What about me? What color am I?” She leans forwards till she’s inches from my face.
  * “You’re—“ I gulp, my eyes darting down to her lips, “blue.”
  * Her giggle pierces through the buzz of being so intoxicatingly close to her, “why?”
  * “Blue is my favorite.”
  * The smile on her face grows, “your favorite—“
  * I surge forward to claim her lips. Blue… my favorite. The words bounce around my head as her tongue caresses mine.
  * Favorite...



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this fic despite it being sort of different from my usual stories (aka being bullet points! How weird for me aha!) Also sorry if purple isn't your favorite color (it actually isn't mine either lol I'm more of a yellow person myself)... purple just popped into my head when I was writing this reader. They seem purple to me even if Maxwell would clearly disagree with me!:D
> 
> I'll let you in on a tiny secret about why it's bullet points...originally I meant to write a small like headcanon for a softer Maxwell Lord but I am not great at controlling myself when I find inspiration. 
> 
> I'll probably write maybe one or two more chapters to this. Next chapter should actually be a bit angsty.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @MandoIsPunk for more Pedro & characters content :)


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His happy place might not be a place, but a person.

  * A month goes by, and I've still not... _sealed the deal._ If someone asked why I'm still hanging around her, I would swear to them it's only because the timing was not right… but she's—
  * "Max," she waves, closing the apartment's main door. Somehow she has convinced me to take out one of my cars.
  * Of course, I have to show off the shiny new black Porsche I purchased a few months back. I rarely drive, relying on drivers to navigate the busy streets, but… I can make exceptions in life once in a while.
  * She stops when she sees the car, her eyes going wide.
  * "Oh—" she walks around the spotless car, "this is nice."
  * Laughing, I gently pull her closer to my body, crowding her against the passenger door.
  * "I know," my lips meet hers. Her fingers at the nape of my neck feel exquisite as her body seems to meld with mine as she kisses me back. 
  * "I didn't think you'd take the Porsche out," she laughs, pressing her forehead against mine before I can kiss her again.
  * "I thought, why not? I haven't taken it out on the road yet." My nose brushes against hers slightly before coming in for another kiss. 
  * "Where are we going?" Her fingers dig into the lapel of my jacket, grounding herself. I suddenly feel overdressed when I look down at her outfit. 
  * My girl—I mean, _she_ always dresses so casually. 
  * Her loose-fitting jeans are splattered with paint, and she's wearing a plain grey t-shirt. 
  * "Are you wearing painting jeans?" I laugh, tugging at the worn fabric at her hip.
  * She laughs, "yup. They look cool, don't you think?"
  * "Very." My hand slips into her right back pocket, squeezing her ass slightly.
  * "Max!" She squeals, swatting at my chest. She rolls her eyes, "let's go…"
  * "Anywhere you want," I prompt.
  * She hums in the back of her throat, "take me somewhere that makes you happy."
  * I frown down at her. Somewhere that makes me happy?
  * "I—I'm not sure—"
  * "Yeah! Bring me somewhere that makes you happy, Maxwell." Her fingers trail up my white dress shirt.
  * Someplace that makes me happy? Nothing comes to mind as easily as she probably thought it would. Truth is…
  * I don't know if anything makes me happy. Well… besides _her_.
  * I cup her jaw, "I'm not sure there's a place that makes me happy."
  * "Nowhere? How—?"
  * "But...you make me happy." I lean my forehead against hers. Her grin is infectious. 
  * "Well, then…" she laughs, "you're a bit overdressed for where I want to go."
  * "That burger place?"
  * She rolls her eyes, "I _love_ that place, but it's not the place that makes me happy."
  * "Where then?"
  * "Are you willing to get a little paint on this?" She giggles, dusting off the shoulder of my suit jacket.
  * "(Y/n) this is an expensive custom-tailored suit."
  * She rolls her eyes, "then take me to the mall."
  * "The mall?" 
  * "Take me to the mall so you can get some normal people clothing so we can do what I want."
  * "I—"
  * "C'mon, I want to see you in Levi's and something… casual." Her fingers brush against my hip bone slyly before she's reaching behind me to open the passenger door.
  * I adjust myself as discreetly as possible. Jesus...how does she have this effect on me?
  * Once on the road, she somehow gets the radio on changing the channel from my usual news station to some tacky pop music station.
  * I groan, "really? You like this?"
  * (Y/n) rolls her eyes, "WHAM! is a great band, and this song is amazing. Plus, George Michael is so dreamy." She continues to bop along to the silly song.
  * "Dreamy?" I glance over at her.
  * She hums in the back of her throat, "yup."
  * At the mall, she tries to get me to wear an atrocious shirt. 
  * "No way (y/n). That's incredibly ugly."
  * I pinch the cheap material between my fingers, frowning at the ugly patterned shirt. 
  * "Fine… what about something like this?" She pulls out a plain muted green button-down.
  * I don't love it, but it's better than the monstrosity she had tried to shove into my arms moments before. I sigh, "okay."
  * I look ridiculous in these _jeans_ & the green shirt.
  * She knocks before asking if she can come in. 
  * I open the door, frowning at her. She slips into the dressing room before taking in my outfit.
  * She frowns before walking closer. Her fingers come to my waist, tucking the green material into the waist of the jeans. She pulls the material slightly before stepping back to roll the sleeves.
  * Stepping back, she admires her work. "I like it." She giggles, "turn around, I want to see something."
  * I frown but do as she asks.
  * "I was right!" She grins, "you have a very nice ass, Maxwell."
  * I roll my eyes, "you got me in jeans… now what?"
  * "Let's pay, and then we're going to my place."
  * "I didn't need to buy new clothing to go to your apartment." I cross my arms over my chest.
  * "Didn't think you wanted to get paint on your nice, _expensive_ suit."
  * "Paint?"
  * "I'm going to teach you how to paint Maxwell Lord."
  * Somehow she gets me home, and in the new outfit, I purchased a paintbrush in my hand.
  * "What are we—?"
  * She places an easel in front of me with a large white canvas on it.
  * "I don't know how?" I mutter weakly.
  * (Y/n) giggles, "don't think about how. Just paint." She stands behind me, her hand guiding mine to dip into the blue paint. She moves our hands to the canvas, "let the painting flow from your brush." The paint smears across the canvas as she pushes her body flush to mine. 
  * "Is this good?"
  * "Maybe try the purple," she drips our brush into the dark purple.
  * "You try." She releases my hand, moving slightly away from my body.
  * Instantly I miss her warmth. 
  * I paint a stripe of purple next to the blue. 
  * "That's right. Whatever you feel, paint it on the canvas." Her fingers dance across my shoulder.
  * I continue to paint shapes and lines across the canvas.
  * Her fingers caress my spine as I continue to paint, sending thrilling little shocks of electricity through me.
  * "What do you think?" I step back to admire my work.
  * "It's wonderful. Can I join in?" She grins, her fingers settling on my hip bone.
  * I nod, unable to form words. Her smile is intoxicating. 
  * Her fingers dip into the hot pink paint smearing it across my rainbow of lines and swirls already on the white canvas. I wrap myself around her body, holding her close to my chest as her fingers play against the canvas's roughness.
  * "There. We've created a masterpiece," she leans into my chest, her paint-covered hand resting on my forearm.
  * She turns around, her fingers smearing the paint on my jaw.
  * "Hey," I frown, rubbing the paint off my face.
  * She giggles, her fingers traveling down my back to cup my ass.
  * "You really do have a nice ass, Max." 
  * I roll my eyes, "you're getting paint on my new jeans."
  * "I said that might be a possibility," she laughs, her hand trailing back up my back.
  * I surge forward to capture her lips. 
  * She grips the front of my new shirt, fingers clawing for the buttons. She clumsily unbuttons the front of my shirt, pulling the material from under the waistband of my jeans.
  * "What—are you doing?" I mumble against her lips.
  * "Taking off your shirt. Wouldn't want to get paint on it, right?"
  * She pushes the material off my shoulders. 
  * The shirt hits the floor. Fuck that shirt.
  * She kisses me again before stepping back to dip her hand into the purple. She smears it down my chest.
  * "Really?" I stop her hand from smearing more paint on my skin.
  * "Let me make you my masterpiece." She presses kisses to my clavicle.
  * I groan as her purple fingers glide against my waistband.
  * My brain reconnects with my hands as I finally reach out to touch her. I pull at the hem of her t-shirt.
  * "Please?" My voice is unrecognizable as I ask for permission. 
  * "Yes," her fingers run up my throat.
  * I pull her shirt over her head, revealing her beautiful skin to my eyes. 
  * "Fuck," I hiss finally touching her, "you're beautiful." 
  * She giggles, "you're beautiful." She pulls me closer to the paints, "paint on me."
  * "What?"
  * She guides my hand to the blue paint, "like the canvas. Paint how you feel… on me."
  * I raise my eyebrows before dunking my hand into the paint. I paint across her shoulders. And a single blue line between her breasts.
  * She sighs when I trail down her nipple, painting it with the blue. 
  * "Max…" she pulls me closer to her body, holding the back of my head against her beating heart.
  * "(Y/n), I—"I pull back to look her in the eyes. Was she? Did she want—
  * "Max," she swipes her thumb against my cheekbone, "make love to me."



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> The first two chapters are on my sorta inactive Tumblr @Mandoispunk
> 
> kudos and comments appreciated:)


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell gets a life-changing surprise. He doesn't react great.

\- Blissful months go by. 

\- Somehow she's wormed her way into my life. Her bright, bubbly person lights up my entire dark world. Her warmth warms my cold heart.

\- My girl is my saving grace. 

\- I grin as she walks through the door.

-" Hello, beautiful," I stand, walking around the desk to kiss her.

-" I have something I have to discuss with you…" She looks perfect in her blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

-"We can discuss it over lunch," I pull her into my arms again.

- _ Where she belongs _ .

-She laughs as my lips graze her jaw, "I'm serious. I need to talk to you about something."

-" Fine. What is it?" I coax another kiss from her lips before leaning against my desk, her between my knees. My hands perch on her waist.

-" Uh--Well, I--I'm not sure how to exactly say this…" She laughs nervously, looking anywhere but my eyes.

-" What's wrong?" My brow furrows as I rub soothing circles on her arms. What in the world has got her like this? 

-"I'm pregnant." She looks away from me. Embarrassed? Ashamed? I can't tell. 

-I don't--What is happening? Pregnant? She can't be pregnant. Well--the one night we weren't exactly  _ safe-- _ but? Then the anger takes over before I can stop my mouth.

-"So that's why we're together, huh? The easiest way to  _ my money _ ."

-Her eyes go from nervous to burning rage immediately when the words leave my lips. Disgust is written in the deep frown on her face.

-"That's what you think of me? You think that after all this time, I'm here for your stupid money?" Her hands shove me slightly away, " _ I don't want your fucking money. _ "

-"Then why are you telling me—?"

-"I didn't want to keep your  _ child's existence _ _ from you _ ." Eyes burning a hole into my skull, she maneuvers her body away from me in seconds. Like being in my vicinity is disgusting. 

-"Are you getting rid of it?" I turn towards her. I'm hoping she'll say yes. I-- don't want anything to change. They're so—I'm so… I don't  _ want _ it to change. Selfishly I plead with her in one sentence.

-She looks hurt. Tears instantly pool in her eyes, making them noticeably glossy from the few feet of the distance she's put between our bodies.

-"No. I'll raise  _ them _ on my own if I have to. I don't  _ want _ _ your money _ ," she seethes. Fat tears spill from her eyes as she grabs her purse and turns towards the door, "Goodbye _ , Mr. Lord. _ "

-Her anger is evident in the way she closes the door with a swift slam.

-What the fuck just happened? Did she just— _ leave me?  _

-She—she's pregnant, and she's not getting rid of it, and apparently,  _ she does not need me _ . Doesn't want me. And the final "Goodbye, Mr. Lord"? That felt like an ending. It stabbed into my thawing heart painfully. Reverting back to Mr. Lord as if they were strangers.

-I feel numb. And then I feel that cruel, empty feeling I had known my entire adult life. The way I felt before her. The feeling crawls up my spine, settling bitterly in my heart.

-I spent a fucking fortune on that  _ terrible coffee _ just to see her for  _ months. _ And now what? She's just  _ gone _ ? She's just done with him? Because of a baby? 

-Standing up, I bark for my assistant. I haven't paid her attention in months. If (y/n) is done with me, then—fine. His attention can go elsewhere too.

\- I need to fucking feel something this instant, and I'll settle for a warm cunt.

**

-Turns out, this breakup hurts a lot more than I'd like it to.  _ Fuck. _

-At work, I spend my hours how I'd normally, bullying my employees, and fucking to feel something. The cold demeanor that had melted because of…her, coming out in full.

\- I made two interns cry when they fucked up my coffee order two days in a row. Why is everyone so fucking incompetent. 

\- How could they get an order right that (y/n) had made especially for me? No barista in town could make that stupid coffee like she could.

\- And the nights… deafening quiet except for the hum of the world news channel and the clink of my glass when I set it down on the glass side table. No more of her shit music or her chatter fill the empty rooms of my home. I even miss the times she begged me to stay over at her place. 

\- The loud honking of the passing car and the drunk laughter of people walking on the streets. 

\- Anything would be better than this  _ quiet _ .

-Running a hand through my unruly hair, I set my whiskey on the table and get up to go to bed. What's the point of staying up any longer? I'm miserable.

-The dreamless sleep surely will drown out the nothingness I feel.

-Discarding his clothing, I fall drunkenly onto the mattress. I grab the pillow with the lingering smell of her shampoo, holding it hard against my chest. 

-Fuck, it's slowly losing the scent. I curl around the stupid pillow as the familiar pang of my loss shoots through my heart. 

- _ I am fucking pathetic. _

-If I had handled  _ the situation _ better, she'd be here. In my bed. 

-It's been months. I let myself wonder about her... and even the baby. The child who I'll never know. 

-I wonder what life would be like if I had reacted... differently.

-I would've insisted she lives with me. She would fill this empty shell of a home with her bright, vivaciousness. And eventually, the cries and laughter of their baby would be mixed in with her laughter and music. 

-She would've fought the idea— at first. Roll her eyes and push him away playfully.

- _ "My apartment is fine. The baby will be fine at my place Max!"  _ She'd say. He'd chuckle, pulling her close to his chest.

- _ "Your apartment can barely fit both of us. I want you to live with me." _

-Finally, she'd agree, and they'd put together a nursery down the hallway. 

-I would've bought the best for their baby. Argued to buy the best.

-" _ Let me buy the set. It'll look nice. Plus, I talked to the lady at the store, and she said it was the best, safest set." _

_ -"She only said that to get you to buy it, _ " she'd have laughed, and kissed me on the cheek, " _ but fine. I'll let you buy it. Just this once. I don't want them to be spoiled." _ She'd have rubbed her hand over the swell of her stomach.

-She probably looks  _ amazing _ right now. I can imagine her with the new softness and the curve of her stomach.

-Together they would've gone to all the baby stores in town, picked out little outfits and other things the baby needed…

-" Look, Max," she'd turn towards him to show him a cute outfit, "they could look like their daddy." She'd probably have picked out some silly little baby suit. I'd roll my eyes, but secretly I would buy the little outfit. Boy or girl, my child would grow up to be the next CEO of Chimtech. 

-I would've shown her off to the people running the stores. Proudly claimed their child as my own and their mother. Their  _ beautiful _ mother. The most beautiful woman he has laid eyes on.

-She would've painted the walls of the nursery. Maybe a large mural full of purples. 

-" _ Purple is happy. I want them to be happy… _ " she would've leaned into his body as they admired her work.

-Maybe she would've put plants everywhere like her apartment. 

-She'd probably change my entire home, and I would've let her. Removing all the dark furniture and requesting the walls to be painted… 

-I would've teased her, saying that the  _ mistress of the house _ would usually get this sort of decorating privilege. She would've laughed along.

-I know I would've bought a ring the moment the swell of her stomach was visible. Fuck… she was carrying his baby how could I not ask her to marry him? Make him the happiest man on earth...

-We would've eloped… I would've taken her anywhere in the world for a  _ month _ . Would've given her anything she wanted—but he had ruined it.

-Hot tears fall down my face. Fuck I messed up. And thanks to my temper, she was gone.

-After their break up, I had left her alone for a solid week. I had thought I could maybe reconcile with her. But when I went to the coffee shop and asked the employees about her, they had looked around at one another.

_ -"She quit earlier this week. She's moving back to her parents is what I think she said." A small blonde woman says. _

_ -"Do any of you know where her parents live?" I had asked, hopeful I hadn't lost you forever. _

_ -"No." _

_ -fuck. _

-Months go by. She seemed to just disappear into thin air.

-An unaddressed white envelope captures my attention one morning when I recognize her handwriting on the front. I rip into the envelope like a starved man. I hope she has given me an address inside...something to tell me where she is. Maybe it's a letter… 

- _ Maybe she still loves me. _

-A single Polaroid falls out of the envelope, falling to his feet.

- _ your son  _ is written on the back in neat black ink.

-I flip it over to see the photo of the newborn baby. My—my son. He looks so much like  _ her _ .

-Tears swell at my eyes as he holds the photograph.

-She didn't have to do this...send me the photo of the baby. Why would she? I'm the one who wrecked everything, why should she share their child with me? Even if it's only a photograph...it was something.

-The urge to reclaim her love—to find my little family's hiding place overcomes my usually rational mind. I  _ must _ find them. I must take them both  _ home _ . I can't live my life knowing that she's somewhere with their baby, and  _ I'm not there _ .

-Getting a private detective seemed like the easiest way to find her. I knew she wasn't in town… her apartment was empty the day I found out she had quit her job. No one knew where she was. I had asked her landlord, her neighbors… but nothing. She had seemingly packed up her life and gotten as far away as she could from me.

-And now she had our son with her. She had gone through everything, all the hard parts and all of the exciting parts without me. 

-I had to find her. Had to see her. Had to hold their baby.

-My son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This might be the last chapter.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated:)


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